Page 3 of The Maleficent Faerie
Dedicated though I’ve been, I’ve grown more restless lately. Maybe a little jealous. Slightly bitter, because I see no end to this role I was given. I’ve always been trained as a fighter, as a bodyguard. My mothers taught me magic, and I had teachers who drilled me in swordplay, archery, hand-to-hand combat, strategy, and stealth. I learned history, music, art, science, and math alongside the Princess, benefiting from the best tutors. I’m grateful for that, of course, and thankful to be such a favorite with the King and Queen. I shouldn’t want anything else—anything more. This is my life. This will be my life forever.
My mothers—Genla, Sayrin, and Elsamel—are the Regents of the Caennith Fae, subordinate to the human King and Queen, but working closely with them so our people can exist in harmony. My mothers are a triad, bonded by an affection so potent they conceived me during one night of especially passionate lovemaking. A miracle of Eonnula, or so they claim. Sayrin has tried to tell me the details a few times, but like most people, I’m not keen to hear about my parents’ sex lives. It’s enough for me that they remain happy together, hundreds of years after their first meeting.
I crave a love like theirs. But for some reason they’ve discouraged me from forming any relationships.
Every time I bring it up, Sayrin says, “Plenty of time for that later.”
“Fuck ‘em and leave ‘em,” Genla advises.
And Elsamel says, “Don’t give your heart away to some stranger. Get to know them inside and out first.”
I won’t ever have time for that—not with my life threaded so tightly with Dawn’s.
The carriage rattles over an obstacle and shudders so violently I have to brace my hand against the ceiling. “Goddess, what is going on?” I glance at Dawn, but she’s still asleep. I brush aside the window curtain to peer out.
Darkness cloaks the window—a writhing, tenebrous smoke coiled against the glass.
It’s mid-afternoon, and even in the deep forest, sunlight should be leaking through the canopy, dappling the road. Yet I see nothing but twisting, swirling shadows, like the darkness of the Edge, except the Edge is leagues away. Which can mean only one thing.
We’re being attacked by the Daenalla. And not just any Daenalla, but the only Fae in this entire realm reckless and foolish enough to actually spin the Void into magic.
The Daenallan ruler, the Maleficent One, also known as the Void King.
Shit. What is the Void King doing here? It’s too much of a coincidence that he’s on this road, at this very moment. It reeks of spies and betrayal—maybe by one of the guards? The driver? Someone at the Festival? The last option is the most likely, but I don’t have time to figure that out now. The fucking Void King is after us. And he’s probably not alone. When he rides, his Edge-Knights usually ride with him.
My magic is not as powerful as my mothers’. I can perform simple glamours, shift air currents, make a spark for fire, and create pulses of light-born energy that push back attackers. I can fly, of course, but not for long before my wings tire because, like Dawn, I’ve been kept indoors most of my life. My greatest strength lies in my combat skills.
I’m used to defending Dawn against single assassins or would-be kidnappers, not large groups of enemies. I protect her against the ones who slip through the castle defenses. But strong and skilled as I am, I haven’t been tested in a battle against multiple assailants—especially not enemies this notoriously powerful.
From the teeth-shattering rattle of the carriage, I can tell the driver has already urged the horses to run. Pounding hooves shake the ground on either side of us—I can’t tell if they are from the two guards’ horses or from enemy mounts.
My mind races, cobbling together a likely scenario.
The Void King’s shadows will overcome the horses and pull the carriage to a stop. The guards will fight on our behalf, possibly taking out a few of the Edge-Knights. I wish I knew how many there are. Four or five, we could handle, but no more than that, especially if there are Fae among them. And with the kind of magic the Void King wields, our chances are even worse.
I shouldn’t have brought Dawn out here. Shouldn’t have let her leave the palace, shouldn’t have taken this shortcut. It’s my fault, my own stupid fault. Our enemies left us alone for too long, and I became incautious, stupid, and self-focused. Fuck.
I should have insisted on bringing more guards—or at least Dawn’s body double, Etha. Etha sometimes makes appearances on Dawn’s behalf, acting as Crown Princess in situations where the King and Queen deem it too dangerous for Dawn herself to appear. Etha knows her role, and she’s well-paid for the risk she takes. If she were here, she could switch clothes with Dawn—
But Etha isn’t here.
I’m here.
Reaching over, I grip Dawn’s shoulder and shake her awake. “We’re under attack.”
“What?” She rouses, staring at me blearily. “What are you talking about?”
“Switch clothes with me. Now.”
“But—but your wings, and your hair—”
“I’ll glamour them. Quickly, Your Highness.”
“I can’t let you—”
“Shut up and listen!” I hiss. “You are vital to the whole kingdom. I’m not. I don’t think they’ll kill me, they’ll just carry me off somewhere. When they find out I’m not you, they’ll let me go.” I don’t believe a word of what I’m saying, but lying has always come easier to me than it does to other Fae. I switch to a tone Dawn only lets me use when we’re alone—the commanding voice of an older sister. “Do as I say, or I will kill Grayme when we get home.”
Her eyes widen at the threat to her favorite dog. “You wouldn’t.”
